


dishabille

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-05 07:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: dishabillenoun (/dɪsəˈbiːl/, /-ˈbɪl/)1. Extreme casual or disorderly dress2. A loose, negligent dressIt’s probably unnecessary to do this whole song and dance, because as Phichit would say,Viktor is a sure thing, Yuuri, he’d go on his knees at the sight of your ankles. He’d be seduced by a single finger, that’s how far gone the man is for you.(Or: A small celebration of Yuuri Katsuki in lingerie.)





	1. orchids (love, beauty, luxury, seduction)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pickletea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickletea/gifts).



> nearly a year later and i still can't believe i did this HAHA but these were originally written for pickle and i's little pink fic+art collab book back in january/february 2018 and we are, as pickle says, sharing some of the filth here. specifically, some (read: three) of the written filth hhhh so UH if you enjoy yuuri katsuki in lingerie, varying levels of spice, and the occasional sappiness, we gotchu fam

The whisper of nylon against his skin is heavenly.

Or perhaps  _ sinful _ would be a much better word for it given what he’s setting out to do, and a soft sigh falls from Yuuri's lips as he pulls the stocking up, up,  _ up _ , the thick elastic at the top a brand around his thigh. It reminds him of Viktor’s hands, of the way they would grip at him—possessive, proprietary, making him feel owned and loved. Reminds him that he’s  _ Viktor’s  _ as much as Viktor is, and forever will be his.  

Letting out a soft hum, he reaches for the other stocking and makes quick work of putting it on. It feels just as good on his skin as the first one, the dotted pattern making for a very interesting texture, and Yuuri almost feels sorry for what he has planned for them.

_ Almost _ .

After a quick glance at his phone screen which still bears Viktor’s latest messages— _ I missed you so much, solnyshko <3 <3 I can’t wait to see you! I made dinner reservations so dress up!!  _ \-- Yuuri pushes himself up from the bed and makes his way towards the bay window where a pair of black, lace-up heels sit. The movement pulls deliciously at the waist cincher and the next breath stutters out of his chest, a thin, reedy little thing that has a blush burning like wildfire on his cheeks and has him surreptitiously adjusting himself in his panties. If something as innocent as walking already has him thrumming with want, then Yuuri can’t imagine what will happen once he starts doing something more vigorous.

He puts on the heels in a few practiced moves, sat precariously by the wide window as he bends over to lace them up. The heels are one of his impulse buys and they're a bit higher than what he’s normally used to, but it’s worth it for the effect they create, the patent leather snaking up his ankles in ways Yuuri knows will drive Viktor insane. Which is, after all, the goal of this entire endeavor.

It’s probably unnecessary to do this whole song and dance, because as Phichit would say,  _ Viktor is a sure thing, Yuuri, he’d go on his knees at the sight of your ankles. He’d be seduced by a single finger, that’s how far gone the man is for you. _ But Yuuri wants to do it, wants to dress up and watch as Viktor’s eyes go dark with desire knowing that it’s because of his efforts, wants to spoil Viktor as much as Viktor spoils him. 

His phone beeps with a message alert just as the sound of the front door opening reaches his ears, signalling Viktor’s arrival. A smile breaks out on Yuuri’s lips, unbidden, while he waits for Viktor to make his way towards the bedroom, and anticipation blooms, bubbling in the pit of his stomach as Viktor’s footsteps come closer.

“ _ Tadaima! _ ” Viktor sings out, making Yuuri’s heart flutter wildly inside his chest, because hearing Viktor come home to him will never get old. “Are you ready, zvezda moya?” The question is accompanied by the bedroom door opening, and Yuuri sits up straighter, watching in rapt attention as Viktor walks inside. “I got us reservations to that French restaurant you—” 

Viktor stops. 

Stares. 

Blinks once, twice, thrice, until Yuuri stands and starts walking towards him with a deliberate sway to his hips that has Viktor swallowing audibly.

“ _ Yuuri _ ,” Viktor breathes out, reverent.

There’s a blush high on his cheeks as he continues to stare at Yuuri. And his gaze is almost like a physical touch, dragging tendrils of heat from the tips of Yuuri’s toes to the sensitive insides of his thighs, lingering on the front of his panties, before continuing up his chest to the stiff peaks of his pink nipples.

“I was actually thinking we could just stay in,” Yuuri starts, stopping just in front of Viktor, hands coming up to rest on Viktor’s chest. He makes a show of licking his lips, grinning when Viktor’s gaze is drawn to the movement, seemingly magnetized. Stepping closer, Yuuri drags his hands upwards and twines his arms around Viktor’s neck. “ _ And you can eat me out instead _ ,” he whispers, leaning in close to press a biting kiss on the sensitive underside of Viktor’s jaw, and is rewarded with a choked-out moan and Viktor’s hands grabbing at him and squeezing at his ass over the lace.   

“ _ Blyad _ .”

Yuuri laughs, brushing his lips against Viktor’s teasingly, and says, “that too.”


	2. tulips (perfect love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note that these are meant to be interconnecting drabbles with accompanying art pieces in the book so yeah!!

_"Ah!_ ”

No matter how many times Yuuri has used this particular vibrator, he always, always thinks that it’s smaller than it really is. So it’s always a pleasant surprise when the tapered tip gives way to the thick center—at least three fingerbreadths wide—as it slides inside him, settling snugly against his prostate.

Once the flared base rests securely on his perineum, Yuuri shifts back against the pillows before taking a deep, bolstering breath. Under normal circumstances, Yuuri would never dream of doing anything like this, but he’s here to put on a show.

Don a second skin.

Or a pair of fishnet stockings, as it were.

So he kicks up his heels and hooks his legs over the arms of the armchair, giving Viktor an unimpeded view to where he’s stretched tight and wanting around the vibe.

The strangled moan Viktor lets out is music to his ears.

“Yuuri, _pozhaluysta_ , can I—”

“No,” Yuuri says with a sweet smile before Viktor can even finish.

Yuuri knows that what he’s doing is incredibly petty, but he can’t help it, not when Viktor has been ignoring him for the better part of the day. Even after Yuuri’s gone and dressed up just for him, putting on the expensive suede heels with every intention of letting Viktor come on them. So, yeah, Viktor deserves to be on his knees, just a few inches away from where Yuuri is splayed out like an offering, and not allowed to touch Yuuri _or_ himself.

At least Yuuri’s letting him watch—

“I installed the control app on your phone, Vitya.”

—and control the vibe.

When Viktor shoots him a wide-eyed look, Yuuri adds with a flutter of his eyelashes, “So you can make me feel good.”

Viktor chokes on a laugh, eyes never leaving him. “That would be much easier if I could touch you, moya lyubov.”

Yuuri just hums, considering, and drags a hand over his chest, toying with his nipples, before finally curling a hand around his slick and aching cock. He’s been simmering with arousal ever since he woke up and now he’s wretched with it. Yuuri doesn’t even bother to disguise his moan as he begins to stroke himself; the slick slide of skin against skin making for a lewd soundtrack.

“Maybe later,” Yuuri finally says, arching his back and delighting in the way Viktor’s eyes go dark. “After you make me come.”

Viktor fumbles for his phone.


	3. buttercups (charm, attraction, radiance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be the last drabble i'll be sharing! if you're interested in reading the other 4 fics in this series (including one where yuuri finally gets the D) and seeing all the art pieces,,,do check out the links below :>
> 
> this drabble in particular is heavily based on one of the pieces that pickle created!! i.e. what yuuri's wearing hhhhh

Makka’s long run off to her dog bed, leaving them alone in the silence of the living room.

Yuuri is always beautiful, Viktor knows. It’s a truth that he knows with a bone-deep certainty. On the ice and off of it, Yuuri is beautiful. Even when he’s being incredibly grumpy in the mornings, his hair a bird’s nest, and glaring at Viktor for daring to wake him up, Yuuri is, and forever will be, beautiful. Viktor knows this in his heart and soul.

But his breath still stutters inside his throat, stuck there along with his heart, at the sight of Yuuri dancing, illuminated by the pale moonlight.

Seeing Yuuri like this only solidifies his desire to have a dance studio set up in their future home. An actual house, with a yard for Makkachin and perhaps a new puppy to play in. Maybe one with a nursery too. Because Viktor wants anything and everything with Yuuri. Will try anything and everything, as long as he has Yuuri by his side.

Viktor doesn’t speak, doesn’t dare break the quiet as he approaches—drawn to Yuuri like a moth to a flame. He keeps his steps light, old ballet lessons with Lilia coming back to him in a heady rush, muscle memory guiding him when he’s inevitably caught in Yuuri’s orbit; a lonely meteor pulled in by the sun’s gravity, finally finding home.

Just like the first time, and all the other times after that, dancing with Yuuri feels like a privilege of sorts. A gift handed down from the heavens, feeling very much like an extension of Yuuri’s love.

And perhaps it is, Viktor realizes abruptly as they twist around each other in an embrace, as they make a slow circuit around the room, as Yuuri dips him low and lets himself be dipped in return. As Viktor lays Yuuri down, softly, gently, onto the hardwood floor, one hand cradling the back of Yuuri’s head, Yuuri smiling up at him as if Viktor had been the one to hang the moon and stars in the sky.

“What’s with this?” Viktor asks in a whisper after he’s caught his breath, touching the gold chains decorating Yuuri’s skin reverently.

Eyes widening, Yuuri lets out a small laugh, his expression suddenly turning bashful as he says, “Well, you said you only kiss gold, so...”

“Yuuri,  _ Yuuri _ ,” Viktor says helplessly, because  _ oh _ , that’s another comment that’s going to haunt him forever, isn’t it? “ _ You _ are my gold.” He says as sincerely as he possibly can.

Viktor has an entire closet full of gold medals, has decades’ worth of titles to his name. But the only gold that will ever matter to him will be Yuuri, and the only title he will forever be proud of is being  _ Yuuri’s Viktor _ . Let others be the living legend, Viktor only wants to be Yuuri’s.

He’s startled from his thoughts by a hand lifting his, and he looks down and sees Yuuri pressing a kiss to the ring on his finger, sees the future stretching out before him—life and love. “You’re my gold too, Vitya.”

“I love you.” he says in a rush, and means:  _ you’re the light of my life— _

— _ I never knew love before I met you _ .

— _ Let me keep you in my heart forever _

_ —I’ll make a home for you, carve out a place so that you’ll never leave. _

“I love you too,” Yuuri says, and Viktor hears:  _ welcome home. _


	4. denier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re going to be the death of me,” Viktor groans, kissing a scorching trail along Yuuri’s throat. 
> 
> “I thought we’ve established that you wouldn’t mind a little death?” Yuuri returns in a breathy little giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because pickle went ahead and shared some of her [fave](https://twitter.com/picklddd/status/1086623878154080256) [pieces](https://twitter.com/picklddd/status/1086626070772604928) from the book over on twitter!! have a spicy one, my dudes
> 
> not flower-themed like the other ones but it is stocking-themed? hhhhh

The whisper of nylon against his skin is absolutely maddening.

When he’d put on the 30 denier stockings earlier before leaving for practice, Yuuri didn’t think he’d regret wearing them. He’s always worn them, even before this whole seduction thing with Viktor started. 

Stockings are thin. They don’t keep sweat and moisture. Most importantly, they don’t rub too much against the skates, hence making them practical skate wear. And the particular pair he’s wearing also keeps heat in, perfect for cold days at the rink.

The only problem is that right now, they’re keeping in a decidedly different kind of heat.

One that simmers low and hot in Yuuri’s belly, threatening to overflow and fill him up with sticky want, makes his skin tingle deliciously as he works through the step sequence of the new short program he and Viktor are working on. It’s supposed to be a contemplative piece, similar in feeling to  _ Agape _ , but it’s slowly but surely turning into something like  _ Eros _ the longer Yuuri skates.

Because instead of the quiet reflection he’s supposed to be doing, all Yuuri can think about is the tantalizing pull of nylon against the sensitive insides of his thighs, rubbing against the marks Viktor left there. Which of course has him thinking about how they got there in the first place, and before Yuuri knows it, he’s half hard in his sweats and panting. It’s almost as if he’s developed some sort of weird conditioned response to the stockings. Like he’s one of Pavlov’s dogs, and he’s formed an association between the sensation of nylon on his skin to the warmth of Viktor’s hands, the weight of Viktor’s cock—

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri thankfully doesn’t moan aloud at the touch of Viktor’s hand on the small of his back, but it’s a very,  _ very _ close thing.

He does, however, go weak in the knees, which is probably just as worse because he ends up slipping on the ice with a yelp. But before he can do much more than wobble precariously on his skates, Viktor’s pulling him in with a steadying hand on the small of his back and hip, pressing them tight together—two puzzle pieces interlocking perfectly.

And Yuuri does moan then, a loud and throaty thing that echoes inside the rink, his cock twitching against the divot of Viktor’s hip.

“Oh god.”

For a long second, silence greets him and it’s all Yuuri can do not to spontaneously combust right then and there. His entire face burns, and he’s about to pull away when Viktor shifts, the slightest twist of a hip, so Yuuri can feel the hard line of Viktor’s cock pressing against his.

“ _ Oh _ .”

The moan he lets out is even louder than the last, and arousal sparks up his spine as he shivers helplessly, burying his face in the hollow of Viktor’s neck.

Above him, Viktor chuckles. “Did you think it wouldn’t affect me, detka?” He asks, tone wry, hands grabbing and clutching at Yuuri’s ass as he begins to roll his hips. “Seeing you skate like that?” Viktor continues in a harsh whisper, breath hot against Yuuri’s ear, making Yuuri keen—has him mouthing wetly and biting kisses at the sensitive underside of Viktor’s jaw in retaliation.

“Vitya.”

Yuuri burns, the low heat in his belly raging into an inferno. Each sinuous roll of Viktor’s hips leaves him gasping, making him leak precome on the stockings, staining them.

They’re alone in the rink, a fact that he’s incredibly thankful for because he can’t quite imagine if anyone else were to see them like this: necking like a couple of teenagers, Yuuri practically riding Viktor’s thigh while Viktor gropes him.

“God, kotyenok,” Viktor starts with a harsh bite to Yuuri’s ear, hands sliding underneath the waistband of Yuuri’s sweats only to stop, fingers stuttering, when instead of bare skin he meets— “ _ You little minx _ ,” Viktor hisses.

Yuuri doesn’t get the chance to explain that he’s wearing the stockings for practical skating reasons, because Viktor is picking him up and hauling him off. He’s not entirely sure how Viktor does it, but in the span of several heartbeats, Viktor has them off the ice, skates haphazardly thrown off, and hurrying their way to the locker rooms. 

Once there, Viktor crowds him against the door, caging him in.  _ Kabe-don _ , a voice in his head whispers, just as they both surge forward for a long-overdue kiss. 

There’s nothing chaste about it. Viktor sets upon him like a man starved, devouring him with lips, teeth, and tongue. And Yuuri gives back in kind, licking into Viktor’s mouth with a moan, deepening the kiss.

Viktor pulls away with a ragged breath, leaving Yuuri to pant after him, lips bruised and tingling. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Viktor groans, kissing a scorching trail along Yuuri’s throat.  

“I thought we’ve established that you wouldn’t mind a little death?” Yuuri returns in a breathy little giggle that quickly ends in a loud moan as Viktor slides down to his knees, dragging Yuuri’s sweats along with him. 

It leaves Yuuri exposed, and he shivers not just from the cool air kissing his heated skin but also from the weight of Viktor’s stare sliding over him—like thick rivulets of honey dripping down his skin. It makes his cock strain harder against the stockings, and Yuuri moves to finally peel them off when Viktor catches his hands in a tight grip. 

“Let me.” He whispers, leading Yuuri’s hands to his hair, and it’s the only warning Yuuri gets before Viktor is leaning in and licking a thick stripe from the base of his cock to the leaking tip. Immediately, Yuuri is shouting, fingers scrabbling for purchase on Viktor’s silver locks. His hips jump, the muscles in his stomach clenching as Viktor begins to mouth at him, tracing the shape of his cock with a wicked tongue. 

It’s all too much and not enough all ot once, and Yuuri rides that desperate edge, hips rolling frantically. “Viktor,” he whines, thrusts up only for Viktor to pull away with a teasing laugh. “Vitya!” 

Viktor just laughs again and proceeds to haul Yuuri up by the thighs, making him shriek as he scrambles to keep his balance and ends up practically perched on Viktor’s shoulders. The new position gets Viktor’s mouth closer to his cock, allows Viktor to suckle wetly at the glans over the nylon and tongue at his slit. And he does so with a gusto, until Yuuri is squirming in Viktor’s tight grip, letting out little  _ ah, ah, ahs _ that finally turn into a shocked scream when Viktor thumbs roughly at his twitching hole.

“Fuck!” 

Yuuri’s barely even caught his breath, cock still pulsing inside his now tacky stockings, before Viktor has him bent over the door and is ripping through the nylon. The gasp lodges inside his throat, and it’s all Yuuri can do not to collapse onto the floor. 

He feels more than hears Viktor fumble with the lube as a lone finger slips in right to the knuckle. It punches the breath out of him, and Yuuri whines as it begins to pump in and out, stretching him for more. One finger quickly turns into two, the slide easy with Yuuri still loose from his orgasm. 

And it’s not long before Viktor is fucking him with three fingers and Yuuri is moaning like a whore, clenching tight whenever the fingers brush against his prostate. Viktor teases him until Yuuri can feel the faint stirrings of heat churning up in his stomach once again, his cock valiantly twitching inside the sticky confines of his stockings.

He’s about to tell Viktor to hurry up and just fuck him already, but before he can get a single word out, Viktor is pulling his fingers out. He hears another rip, followed by the slick sound of lube sliding against skin, and then the thick, bulbous head of Viktor’s cock is pressing against his rim, kissing his twitching entrance.

Viktor pushes inside agonizingly slow, so that Yuuri can feel every inch of him, rubbing against his walls. He feels full, fit to bursting already even though Viktor’s only halfway in. And he finds himself holding his breath as Viktor bottoms out, only to let it out in a squeak as Viktor pulls him up with a hand on his hip and another on his chest. 

It forces him up on his tiptoes, so that his weight rests entirely on Viktor, who slides in impossibly deeper. 

“ _ Ngh _ —Viktor!”

“I got you,” Viktor murmurs, smooths a hand over Yuuri’s trembling thigh and presses a fleeting kiss on Yuuri’s burning ear. “Relax, darling,” he whispers, a sweet sentiment that contrasts sharply with the vicious way he begins to snap his hips up, bouncing Yuuri on his cock.

Viktor fucks him hard and fast, thrusts quickly turning savage as he builds up a punishing rhythm, and Yuuri feels used in the best of ways. Carved open just for Viktor. There’s no doubt that he’ll be feeling Viktor’s cock inside him for days, maybe even a week after this, haunting him through every spin and jump.

He suddenly remembers the first time he’d taken Viktor inside him—in his childhood bedroom, on his rickety old bed—and how years’ worth of fantasies and wet dreams had been blown out of the water in a single night. Remembers touching his tender and gaping hole afterwards, and wanting more still. 

Yuuri wants more now, and he tries to tell Viktor so, but only manages a few broken moans, coherence completely lost. But Yuuri’s always been better at talking with his body, so he rakes his nails along Viktor’s forearms and clenches hard, squeezing tight around Viktor’s cock until Viktor is driving into him in even wilder abandon, one hand rubbing at his cock through the damp stockings.

It’s Viktor who comes first; breath and hips stuttering as he empties inside Yuuri, filling him up to the brim with seed. And it’s what finally pushes Yuuri to the edge, the phantom sensation of Viktor spending inside leaving him breathless and mewling weakly. 

They collapse on the tiled floor in a heap, a mess of sweaty limbs and come, both of them gasping for breath. 

Yuuri whimpers a little when Viktor pulls out, followed by a gush of lube and come, joining the mess already on his damp stockings. 

“Keep it on,” Viktor suddenly rasps, pulling and tugging at what remains of the stockings so that it— _ oh god _ —can sop up the mess dripping sluggishly out of Yuuri’s swollen hole.

Yuuri shudders, giving Viktor a look of admonishment over his shoulder, because he is  _ not  _ going to walk home with— _ with Viktor’s come still inside him, no matter what Viktor says or does _ —

“I’ll clean you up when we get home.” 

Or maybe he will.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to read more or see pickle's amazing art for these, you can check out [these](https://twitter.com/picklestpickle/status/982296822705090561) [posts :>](http://alykapediaaa.tumblr.com/post/172660541601/alykapediaaa-picklestpickle-hi-guys)
> 
> if you enjoyed this, pls water my crops this 2019 by commenting :')


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